Klingon. Snizzle-thwack! The battle escalated when MC Daffodil wiped his brow dramatically. "Beth yw hyn? You want more? Pas de probleme, les gars!" He dropped the bass with a kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of waffles debated the merits of sentient crêpes and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of hover-sheep baa’d harmoniously to the rhythm of his leek, he summoned a holographic harp that doubled as a microphone.